The End of the Affair

OK, so I'll tell you what really happened, Fionnuala! James our cousin was kind enough to give us a lift down on the first Sunday. Galway were playing Sligo in Roscommon, and we hit Roscommon just as the fans were letting out. This slowed us down no end for the last leg of the trip. We came across a very Irish policeman just about there. He was, I presume, meant to be directing traffic, but he just sort of stood in the way half way round a roundabout (don't ask me how I know it was halfway!). There was a woman driving up from another direction looking at him, us looking at him, and the woman and ourselves looking at each other. After a moment of suspended animation Liam and she both went for it, Liam being that bit quicker and narrowly missing a bump. The Gard just kept on standing there quite happy to do nothing. Just a few hundred yards later we met another who got Liam to roll down his window to ask 'Where are you headed, sir?', 'oh, this way here, that we're sort of headed', 'Right, well, go ahead, take it easy, you'll get there in the end'. And we did.

Monday was a bit rained out. We spent it trying to recover from a night of heady gay abandon the night before. Peter was once more transformed into the caped crusader after a few pints and whirled around the dance floor talking to all the girls, doggedly, one after the other. Once he got two to take the bait and he franctically waved me over. I had been busy dancing by myself (and I mean by myself, no one else there at all, I'm not even sure it was a dance floor, more a gap between tables) to the Killers singing with gusto 'I've got soul, but I'm not a sold-y-a'. So I sheepishly make my way over, we chat the legs off the girls and walk them home just to give us time to work out where we're staying, and yes, so I gave a goodnight kiss to an English girl called Emma. Just because of Jane Austen, I think ... Liam spent the evening talking to an irish girl and a 'spanish' girl with an irish accent, who I thought was having us on so I avoided them. Apparently, the spanish girl really liked me, says Liam, crying wolf. So. Monday was spent, by me at least, dropping things, bumping into things and knocking over a milk jug in a cafe in front of a frightened family and feeling thoroughly ashamed. Nice kiss though, lipstick of autumnal sunset with strawberry if I'm not mistaken.

On Tuseday we went to Aran and got pretty badly burned after riding our bikes for about six or seven hours straight. The island we went to was Inis mor, big island. It was great. We even saw a seal at one point, bobbing up every couple of minutes for a breath and a look around. They speak Irish there, so it was a bit problematic trying to ask this woman for directions, whose English was hard for me to decipher. We stopped off at the Church which is made of stone and wood, and all its 'furniture' are likewise. There is a font sculpted out of the trunk of a tree, with the likeness of two hands cupped carved into it. The cross is also a sculpted tree. Every thing maintained as much of their original essences as possible. It was a lovely statement.

We hired a car and went even further south to Kerry for two nights. We stayed in a small place found by Peter, situated in the Gap of Dunloe that goes through the mountains. Only walkers, pony traps, or bicylces are normally allowed there, but we could take the car as we were staying there. It was very tight to drive through and we had to reverse regularly to allow the traps past. It really was beautiful. The valley contained various small lakes which had waterlilies growing in their still water. It was also a comic experience. We found a house with no external sign of it being a hostel, but we thought we might be at the right place. We ended up walking into the visitors dining room and were told we needed to book in in the shop besides, which must be close to having the world record for being the smallest shop in the world. It was the size of a bedroom, and walking into it we found no one behind the counter. However, presently this small girl of no more nine came out from a side door and walked behind the counter. Liam and I did a double take, but Peter just started straight into 'Excuse me, but I wonder if it is possible for you to check our booking that we made yesterday over the internet?'. More comically, the girl proceeded to answer all Peter's enquiries and to book us in, taking our money and giving us the right change, giving us fresh sheets, selling me toothpaste and telling us the number of our room in the space of about three minutes flat. Off we went to make our beds without even so much as seeing an adult! And the hostel was good. It was back to the conditions our parents had, of boiling the kettle on a gas ring - taking ages - and only having four tv channels, only the irish ones! Peter and Liam even wanted me to go for a walk that night. I thought I'd entered the twilight zone.

Anyway, we drove around the ring of Kerry the next day and had a great time, meeting an ass or too along the way (not the american kind). We bumped into some Cork tourists who did their best to run Kerry down - the loyalities run deep down there. But we found some of the most picturesque sights yet found in Ireland. That night we had a pint in Katie Kearney's which is into the Gap a bit and had a good chat with one of the local hillsmen who argued against the rambler's right of way with me. But then he offered to drive us back to our hostel! We saw him the next day driving his trap for the tourists and we waved hello on passing. That's one thing which becomes clear down there, people are scarce and roads are thin, so if you are passing someone you just cannot not look at them and offer an hello. Life, while becoming more isolated from the mass, becomes more social in the individuals, if that makes sense to say it like that.

Then we were up to Ennis in Co. Clare for the last night, where we had to get a bed and breakfast, which was greast for bed and terrible for breakfast. We met a couple of Canadian sisters in the pub that night, who were travelling to Ireland for the first time. They were funny and it was nice to meet them. Then home on Saturday, in time for saturday night live.

One last cautionary tale to be told. The first morning we woke in Galway we found that we were sharing the room with a young american couple. They looked about seventeen, but unfortunately they got on like they were an old married couple or something worse. For example, the girl sat in her seat very prim and proper looking imploring at the guy while we were busying ourselves for the day. She wanted him to get up and get going - it was nearly check out time - but he lay on the bed and through dismissives at her. Then she went over on his bed. The next I see is that he is brushing his teeth lying horizontal on the bed. During this Peter was off to the washroom leaving the door open as is his wont. I was shouting at hime not to use the water as it is contaminated there. He turned on the tap, I shout again, then out he comes to get the bottle of water toothpaste all over the outside of his mouth. I crack that he looks like a rabid dog, and this breaks the tension in the room. The girl stars to talk to us and we chat with them for a few minutes before leaving. As we leave we discuss what we'd like to have done to the guy. Then ... a few days later ... there they were getting on to our bus for the Aran islands and they come to sit behind us. Then it starts again. This was the guy. 'Hey, why do you complain all the time? Why don't you just live in the present. I live in the present. But you can't. You just always look into the future, and you know what that does - that spoils the present. If you only stopped complaining so much you would enjoy things more. Why do you always have to? Why?' And more and at greater length and even more condescendingly, complaining about her complaining for what seemed about ten minutes. Then she responded, 'Yes, you're right, I'm sorry, I'll try not to in the future, I'm sorry.' Him again, 'If you didn't do it we wouldn't have to talk like this; we could just talk about what's happening in the present.' And her, 'You're right, I'll try to do that in the future.' I felt like punching him and shaking her. Then on the island we saw them again as we were about to board back onto the boat. I said to Liam let's stay here to avoid them. I couldn't stand the guy. And true enough, from a distance we could see him gesticulating in front of here and then coming away from the dock again past us. Liam didn't think I could beat him, but when the chips are down my scrawny body gets infused with the fighting spirit of dead ancestors and, you know, kicks some ass (in the american sense). However, this time I let him pass.

And then if that wasn't enough, as we made our way to our new hostel that night who was following us but the dynamic duo coming to stay there too. I left the door open for the girl and she smiled and I could see she was very sweet and I just felt sorry for her. So let this be a warning to any girls out there, be sweet but as Shakespeare says 'Be good and let those who want be fair' - I interpret this as - don't allow yourself any coquettish nonsense which accepts you being beat up physically or verbally on a regular basis. And a warning to any Salt Lake City type men, having about ten wives as servants, the caped Stephen wont stand for it any longer. But I have to admit, the caped Stephen does bruise quite easily.